The Art of Letting Go
by inlieu
Summary: It's been three years since Plastic Beach and the band's hiatus has left Murdoc feeling aimless and frustrated. In the wake of a tragedy, he thinks he's found a way to turn the tide in his favor once again. When 2D unexpectedly agrees to help him, the pair embark on an excursion across Europe that is both revealing and cathartic in ways they could never expect. Eventual 2Doc.


Warnings for this chapter: Mentions of minor character death (though this will be playing a pretty important role in the story throughout)

The rating will probably move to M later and appropriate warnings will be given. I'm also aware certain things are pretty vague here but I promise it will all be explained in time!

Cheers

* * *

Wobble Street was nothing like Kong.

Since moving into the humble townhouse, Murdoc had accrued an endless list of less than stellar memories. There was the time his leg fell through one of the floorboards on the stairs, trapping him until - much to his chagrin- Noodle and 2D stopped by to help him out (he vowed to never use the useless stairs again after that). Then there was the time he accidentally summoned colony of bats from the lower fourth dimension during one of his drunken seances and had to set aside a week looking for a spell to send them back. More recently, there was the time when he was checking his e-mail only to find yet another notification from their landlord threatening imminent eviction. It was a far cry from the spacious halls Kong Studios and the opulent, carefree lifestyle he had lived. Murdoc had not foreseen Wobble street and its memories when he formed his band all those years ago. However, he currently had the opportunity to turn the tide once again and he had hopes that today would be the day to begin that process.

He tapped his fingers anxiously against the arm of the stair lift as the machine grunted and groaned into action. Slowly, it began to ascend.

It was the weekend, and that usually meant 2D slept in late. Recently this had extended into the afternoon but it was nearly two and Murdoc had waited long enough with his idea, no, THE idea. He had run numerous iterations of it past 2D quite a bit already but this version he was going to use today had to work. He shifted in his seat, trying to will the stair lift into moving faster. When it did nothing of the sort, he persistently pressed the "on" button on the handheld remote. When nothing changed he threw the remote down the stairs, resigned to ascending at the machine's pace. It would be yet another piece of machinery that needed to be fixed or completely replaced.

Over what felt like hours, he glided past the ugly graffiti and paint chipped walls of the staircase until finally arriving at the top of the second floor. 2D's room being in the attic, he still had one more flight to climb. It always had to be one extreme of the other with him. Even at Kong, with all the floors available to him, he had opted for the basement. The idiot couldn't ever just settle on the somewhere in the middle like the rest of them. But that wasn't the point of this visit.

Not wanting to waste another moment, Murdoc nearly jumped out of his seat and swung the door to the attic open. He paused long enough to hear what sounded like 2D scurrying around for whatever reason before making his way up the final flight of stairs and into his room.

"Hey, face- er, 2D," he said, correcting himself. Internally, he reminded himself of how necessary it was to remain of 2D's good side, even more so than he had for the past three years. "I thought it over again last night. I was minced out of my mind - though I must say, my brain is usually at its sharpest then, you know- and well, I'm no fortune teller but I'd say I've finally got it."

"You still can't ever knock can you?" 2D replied. Murdoc turned in his direction. Currently, he was laying in his bed fully dressed and staring at the ceiling, looking just as vacant as ever, with his hands were folded on his stomach. "You just barge in here like last time to tell me the same pitch you always do."

"Says the person who sticks his head in my room every morning for Satan knows what reason."

Murdoc took a quick look around the room. Over the past couple of months it had gotten progressively messier. In addition to the piles of clothes and random keyboard equipment that decorated the floor, he now also had plates of partially consumed food all over his shelves. Then again, with all that had happened recently it was understandable. That's what Russel had told him anyways. "What the hell are you still doing in here anyway?"

"I'm um, being mindful," 2D said with a sigh. "Or, that was what I trying to be until you got here. It's what it said to do on that disk Noodle gave me. The first step is to find a comfortable position and clear your mind, to focus on the energies around you."

"Look, if I'm being honest it all looks like a load of rubbish to me especially compared to what you could be doing."

"I'm going to see how it goes. It's only the first day I'm trying it," 2D said with a sigh. "Anyways, before you start the answer is the same. I don't know if now is the right time."

"Well hear me out. I was thinking that you wouldn't even have to come with me! You could just give me the urn and I'd take it around myself and I'd even bring it back with some of the ashes left so you could bury it the backyard or wherever it was you said you wanted to, and that would be that!"

2D's mother had died about two months ago. Murdoc didn't have all the details because he had made a conscious effort to be as far away from the situation as possible, but he knew it was something about a fall and a brain bleed. He also knew that she had requested to be cremated because the urn was one of the two things 2D had brought back with him upon returning from Crawley where the funeral was held. The second item was a list of places she wanted her ashes spread.

" _I know," he had said upon 2D's return. "This would make an excellent band feature. I could fit it right in on my radio show. The fans would love it!"_

At the time, he was immediately shot down and scolded by Noodle and Russel. Murdoc later deflected by claiming that he had only been joking. The deflection hadn't complete lie until suddenly it wasn't. Now, Murdoc was on a mission. His goal was simple. Convince 2D to work with him on a special radio show providing fans with what he was calling "a special profile on the lives of each Gorillaz member." 2D would be first with his journey around the UK and beyond to spread his mother's ashes where she had listed in her will. Maybe he would even find some closure on the way and Murdoc would have a story to bring Gorillaz back into the spotlight again. It would be great. Sure, Murdoc had never considered using his radio show for anything other than drunkenly sharing music and imparting his many brilliant thoughts but the band's indefinite hiatus had left him worried about their status in the eyes of the public. It had also given him enough time to outline a project that he was sure could be a success.

"But it's my story. I should be there. If it's just you, you'll probably ruin it by making up a bunch of stupid stuff." So far, Murdoc had run the idea past 2D at least twice a week with no success. Today seemed like it would be more of the same.

"Since when have I done anything other than stick to the script? And it would still be your story! It's just, well, it's not that..." Flustered, M rifled through his brain for the right words. "Listen. You remember what you said you wanted when we moved here? You said you wanted things to go back to the way they were. This is that chance- you, me, on the road just like the old times. She even left you the directions and now all we left to do have to do is do it."

Again, 2D sighed, closing his eyes as if to be in deep thought. "It's not the idea, it's what could happen if...We all agreed on nothing until all four of us were ready and we had that video last year. Wasn't that enough for now? I thought you were finding your own way of keeping us involved online and stuff."

He was right. So far, Murdoc had attempted to build a presence on any and all of the emerging social media platforms. So far he had been embarrassed to find that he was completely inept at the task. He would forget his passwords, get stuck trying to upload a video or lost in the website layout. Once he even got banned for sharing copyrighted music even though it was their own music. On the rare instance he was successful, he was only bombarded with questions of the band's status and when their next single was coming out. Eventually he gave up.

"I've told you, it's not enough. You have any idea how quickly the public's attention flies these days? If we want to match the pace we need our own stories and do you know who fans are most interested in hearing about?"

2D's eyes opened at this and fidgeted slightly. "Me."

"You."

There were no plans for new music but Murdoc knew he could at least give give their fans the stories they wanted, to remind them and the rest of the world that Gorillaz still existed. But to start he would need a good story. 2D was that story.

"Anyway, it's been what? Two and half months now, right? You don't think it's a good time to start living again and get out of this room, to take a break from that typical work day and get some closure or whatever they call it? This could make it better for all of us, mate, yourself included."

"I don't think it's a bad idea," 2D said. "I think about it a lot...how it sounds like the right thing to do...to fulfill her dying wish but…"

"But what?"

"It won't bring her back. And I feel like having me go around like that would be me admitting that that she's gone and I don't know if I want to do that yet." 2D's voice was shaky and he kept his gaze dead set on the ceiling. "If I think too hard about it, all it does is remind me how much everything has changed. I always looked to her as the last connection to the past, I think and now I don't know what I'm meant to be doing. I keep thinking I want um, a time machine so I could just want to go back to 2001 and stay there. Not that you would understand."

His response left Murdoc with a twinge of anger. "Then don't think! You've always been good at that. It doesn't have to be all bad, we have the power to deal with that right in our hands. This band, the old 2D and the old Murdoc, none of that is gone! We can still be them again." He just needed the permission.

"And there's that too. Things could get...messed up again. Like last time. And if that happened...I don't want to think about it."

"Christ. That again. It won't! It bloody won't!" Murdoc slapped a hand to his face in frustration, squeezing his eyes shut. "And you know that. Don't act so dense," he said, his voice quiet. "My spot here depends on it. You were right there when the rest of them decided it."

2D didn't respond to that but instead continued to stare at the ceiling, brow furrowed with worry. He had gained so many wrinkles since they met. _From all that worrying_. Murdoc knew. He had been the main source of that worry for so many years. As his thoughts drifted he briefly wondered how many lines on 2D's forehead he could claim responsibility for, but quickly brushed those thoughts aside.

"You know what. Fine. I'll just try again. Just like last time," Murdoc grumbled.

Years ago, Murdoc might have gone through with it anyway, stolen the ashes while 2D was sleeping and finished the project on his own and been done with it. However, like he said, both he and 2D knew of his tenuous position in the house and in the band. All Murdoc could do now was let out an exasperated sigh and begin walking towards the stairs.

"The old Murdoc and the old 2D..." It sounded like another aimless 2D tangent, but still Murdoc hoped. Stopping in his track he turned around.

Another painfully long few seconds of silence passed before D finished his thought, eyes focused on his fidgeting hands, "...Oh um, never mind."

And with that, Murdoc grabbed a packet of cigarettes from 2D's nightstand and left.

* * *

The rest of Murdoc's day was spent in his room reading and haphazardly scrawling out random song lyrics into his notebook. He didn't know when they would start writing music again but he couldn't bring himself to stop. Noodle had encouraged him to look for a new hobby or even some form of employment but Murdoc always refused. He had decided long ago that he was a musician and a musician only. The thought of going about life like every other person would be admitting defeat and he resented that scenario. As it stood, his days were long, his book collection had grown abnormally large, and he went through notebooks filled with his thoughts and doodles like Russel went through the food in their refrigerator. No too long ago, his life had consisted of an unending cycle of what he had described as "drinking, playing, and pillaging." These days, the only part of that trifecta he had left was drinking.

By the time it was evening, Murdoc had wandered to the kitchen for some sort of meal. He settled on leftover pizza and some beer. While he sat at the table Noodle was heating up her own leftovers at the stove.

"I see we were sent another eviction notice today." She motioned towards a pile of mail sitting on the table.

"They mailed it too? Psh. Leeches. All of them."

"Apparently, our neighbors have filed some complaints saying that the pests they have in their homes have begun to wander into their homes from ours. Because of past history, the landlord is inclined to agree and is asking us to either clean up or leave," Noodle explained as she attempted to scrub dried food off of one of the many dirty dishes in the sink.

"Well, you can tell to shove that notice up his arse." Murdoc took a defiant swig from his beer. "Don't these people know who we are? They should be grateful we've lived in this dump for this long."

"Celebrity or not, all people are entitled to live comfortably in their homes," Russel added, his voice coming a speaking on the kitchen counter. He was still as large as he was when he met them on Plastic Beach and they had yet to find a way to shrink him back to his original size. In the meantime, Noodle had come up with some sort of intricate system where she re-wired their landline so it would connect to a long line of adapters which could then connect to the custom, extra-large headset microphone Russel had made for himself after he realized he wasn't getting smaller anytime soon. This way, he could still be included in the conversations when the rest of the band was indoors. They just had to leave the landline phone on speaker phone. "Noodle, did the letter give you any idea of how we can fix this?"

"No, but it was a two weeks notice. I was going to call the exterminators tomorrow. We should have enough savings for at least a few rounds of treatment."

"Or imagine this- we could take advantage of our famous band status! Release some exclusive band content updating the world on what we've been up to!" Murdoc scraped all the cheese off his slice of pizza and stacked it in the corner of his plate. "I have the ideas! But no one wants to listen to Murdoc anymore."

Noodle chuckled softly. "Ah. So 2D is still not interested in your idea to use his loss for profit."

"He hasn't said no but he also hasn't said yes. I would say that's a bit more than 'not interested.' I don't know what's holding him up."

"He's been taking his mother's death hard, and sharing it with the public would be very difficult for him. Surely you understand that?"

"I understand everything," Murdoc said through a mouthful of food. "And It's been two months. He's practically back to his regular routine now, save for being in his room all the time."

Noodle chuckled again. "Well that sounds familiar."

"Losing a parent isn't something you can just shake off, man. And they died within years of each other. It's gotta be tough." Even through the speaker, the reflective tone of Russel's voice clear. "Besides, he's got more reasons than that to be hesitant about agreeing to it. You more than anyone should know that."

Russel couldn't see him, but Murdoc sent the speaking a murderous scowl nonetheless. "It's been three years. Three!" He held up three fingers and shook them in the direction of the speaker. "And I've been fine. I haven't tried anything. Hell, I haven't done much of anything at all."

"It's not just that," Noodle said. She took a seat at the table with him. "When was the last time you checked on whether there were still people after you?"

"Nothing happened after the last video so I would wager that the slate's been wiped clean. We won't know anything more until we give it another go and find out. As far as I'm concerned it's all fine."

"Well, before any of that, we wait to see how 2D wants this to be handled," Noodle said. "Right now, it seems like he wants to live quietly and bury his mother's ashes in the garden out back when he's ready. We've been discussing what might make a meaningful ikebana arrangement to plant around it."

"I don't why you're so hung up on this anyways." It was Russel again. "It's not like your little road trip idea is gonna help us right now. You guys oughta focus on cleaning up the house...I'd help if I could but well, you know."

"Don't be so short-sighted, Russel." Murdoc pointed his fork in the direction of the speaker. "I never said it would help right now but with the right delivery it's guaranteed to pay off in the long run; we get acclaim, sponsors, maybe even some merchandise out of it and we can move out of this hellhole and to somewhere more fitting for a world famous band. It's the least I could do seeing that we can't even string together a three minute single."

"And we can't string together a single because we lost most of our equipment when you burned down our studio. Then, we lost the little equipment you WERE able save when all those demonic, supernatural entities and pirates that wanted to kill you destroyed the little island you colonized."

Fuming, Murdoc took in a deep breath preparing to hurl unleash what was sure to be a long string of insults at the drummer. However, Noodle stopped him before he started.

"Both of you should stop, especially you, Murdoc," she said. "You are still alive and in this house, and the four of us are still a band. The fact that we still identify as a band should confirm to you that we will eventually make music and be a part of many projects again in the future. It's enough for the rest of us right now, can't it be enough for you?"

Russel voiced his agreement. "Yeah, Noodle's right. The truth is that we're all here. You just gotta trust the process. And if this thing with 2D is meant to be, it'll be."

Murdoc stabbed his pizza in an attempt to pull a piece off of it with little success. "You lot are useless with all this 'just wait and trust it will work out.' You want to how many of the greats were successful by just waiting? I'll tell you-" He stopped mid-sentence as soon as he noticed the familiar figure at the bottom of the steps.

"Hey, 2D," Noodle said with a smile. "Glad to see you down here for dinner."

"2D!" Russel said. "How's it going, man?"

"I'm alright, I guess," 2D replied as he made his way towards the table. "I was trying out some of the techniques in that book you gave me, Noodle. They really get you thinking. Or really, they get you to stop thinking first, but I found that to be very thought-provoking..." Trailing off, he glanced over to Murdoc. "I thought I'd come down for dinner today, if that's alright."

"Don't mind Muds, he's just a little bent out of shape right now, nothing new," Russel said. "We were just talking about some housekeeping we need to start."

It already felt like two versus one, Murdoc didn't need that number to increase to three. "And lucky for you, a seat just freed up," he said as he got up from the table.

2D looked at him quizzically. "You're leaving?"

"Your welcome," Murdoc said, heading towards the basement. The last thing he heard before he slammed the door behind him was Noodle telling 2D about the leftover Indian food she thought he might find appetizing.

For all the confidence he had at the start of the day, Murdoc was feeling sufficiently disheartened. The stairs creaked with his every step as he descended in the dark. It was a fitting reflection of his mood, he thought. He had initially claimed the basement as the new headquarters of his radio show but it had since been overtaken by all manner of his extraneous belongings, music collections, and old band merchandise he had hoarded over the years. Somehow, he had preserved them well enough that they were still in one piece, and he couldn't quite bring himself to selling them. Back then they had provided him with a sense of comfort as real, tangible evidence of his accomplishments. These days, they came across as eerie representations of the past.

After fumbling around momentarily in the dark, Murdoc flipped the light switch to exposed the damp abode in all its glory. Grabbing a half empty bottle of rum he had opened last week, he took a seat at his desk and thought.

How had it all gotten to this point? The question plagued him as he stared across the room to one of their old tour posters hanging on the wall. It was the poster announcing the Demon Days showcase at the Manchester Opera House. They were all on this one. 2D stood at the front and the rest of them posed in various areas of the concert hall behind him. Murdoc looked at himself, sitting in his seat, eyes bright with excitement. The face of an individual at the apex of their success. _The face of the Murdoc who lived at Kong Studios._ Right now, Murdoc found the expression of his past self to be mocking. Not caring how ridiculous he looked, he shot the poster a scathing glare and then stuck his tongue out. The Murdoc of the past had no right to appear so gleeful at the expense of the Murdoc of today who had no choice but to waste away on Wobble street.

Year ago, a mountain of obstacles had stood in the way of Murdoc's path to success. He had faced that climb with a couple of low quality demos, and insatiable hunger for success and a bottomless well of perseverance. In spite of the doubters, the ridicule and his own recklessness, he had dug his heels in the dirt and pulled himself out of the hole that was his no-name town and reached the summit of international recognition and acclaim. About seven years ago, he had watched the world from that peak with the same excited grin he had in that poster and a drink in his hand. All until it vanished.

Deep down, he knew how it had gotten to this point. He had made some terrible, catastrophic decisions, he knew that. Some of those decisions nearly destroyed the band - _his_ band - but they were decisions he had made in fear of losing. It was the fear of falling from that peak position and landing at that starting point he had faced when he was twenty and no one cared and no one remembered that drove him nearly to insanity.

Murdoc took a long drink out of the bottle, trying numb the uneasy ache in his stomach. Who was 2D or the rest of them to ask him what he knew about loss? He had been experiencing the gradual loss of recognition over the last three years. Sure, his band was still together, but they didn't seem to want what he wanted anymore, at least not at the moment. That was probably the most damning, alienating part of it all. Maybe the source of his grief wasn't as conventional as a family member but it was weighing on him all the same.

The crackle of static from the old microphone on his desk Murdoc back to the present. A quick glance at the clock told him about two hours had gone by. Grumbling, he turned his attention away from the poster on the wall and towards his desk. What faced him was a pile of even more posters. On top was an advertisement for one of the their first concerts ever. This time, his rested his disgruntled gaze on 2D. _Idiot. Dullard._ Murdoc could call him every combination of derogatory names he had stored in his brain but it would change that fact that Murdoc needed him. And nothing had changed. The solution to his current predicament was 2D. _It always has to be bloody 2D._

"I always wondered why they didn't let me retake that. It looks like the cut my arm off," the 2D on the poster said.

"Huh?" Puzzled, Murdoc squinted as he looked at the label on his bottle. He didn't remember mixing any additional downer in that particular bottle so why was he hallucinating?

"But people still came so, I guess it wasn't all that bad...maybe they thought it would be funny to see a band with a one-armed front man."

It was coming from behind him. Murdoc spun around his seat and found himself face to face with the real 2D's blank stare. "You? What the hell are you doing down here?" He tried his best to mask his surprise with anger.

2D took a step back, twiddling his thumbs nervously. "Er, well, I didn't mean to but, um, Noodle and Russel and I...we were talking about things and then they told me to talk to you and you were down here so…"

Murdoc stared at him intently. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for but common sense told him that 2D would encroach on his room without good reason. Another part of him argued back that 2D never adhered to the rules of common sense anyways. As if to sense his growing mix of discomfort and irritation, 2D began to back away slowly. He nearly tripped once he reached the staircase, but kept his eyes on Murdoc nervously as he backed up one step at a time. He was nearly halfway up the stairs before Murdoc broke his silence.

"Well go on then. What do you want?"

"The show," 2D replied. "The radio show. I want to do it."

Murdoc was flabbergasted. "Wha?"

With some new found confidence, 2D straightened his shoulders and replied, "But only if we work on one for you too."


End file.
